[Book #2 in the Nystrom series.]
[Check tws before reading]
[Dual pov]
I push the feeling away and ultimately concentrate my gaze on his upper body, which still bears the traces of my lipstick. "You did not remove them?" He smirks and closes the boo...
The title, the song, this chapter, see what I did there?
I'll be trying from now on to put a suited song on the top of the chapters cause it looks fun 🤞🏼 Now, enjoy reading because I did enjoy writing it ;)
Don't forget to vote, comment, follow and share!
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
- ROWAN'S POV -
Nothing happens when I text her. I try to text her again, but nothing happens. Nothing happens when I call her. I call her twice and get no response.
After Ivy and the others left, I started pacing back and forth in my living room while Ivy took Rain with her or rather, stole her.
Now that I think of it, Silas still thinks Rain is a male—focus.
Once Amaya doesn't respond, my nerves start to strain since she left so quickly and was reacting so relentlessly.
Her words cause my jaw to reflexively clench as they resonate in my head like an alarm. They should feel nothing towards me, were her exact words.
I guess that is too late now, isn't it?
I mutter an expletive under my breath, leaving the living room and the house.
- AMAYA'S POV -
I have been counting down the seconds, minutes, and hours in an effort to calm my racing thoughts. I have not stopped staring at my phone, but part of me feels awful for ignoring him in that way.
I am meant to hate him, and that is so much more manageable than having to admit to him that I am lying to his face. I can not handle this. The fact that I have the temptation to set everything on fire is what initially frightened me; on the other hand, it is also a coping mechanism for me.
When the doorbell rings, I flinch slightly on the couch and briefly close my eyes. My eyes stayed closed for a second or perhaps it was three seconds, but all I can think is, please do not be him.
As soon as my eyes meet my hands after I exhale and rise up from the couch, everything seems fake and strange. My heart feels pre-programmed, and I feel trapped between life and death—between earth and space.
My hand wraps around the door handle as I move over to the front door. My thoughts keep returning to those same words as I cautiously open the door.
But when the door is fully opened, I am completely unresponsive. The fact that he is here causes the phrase to cease repeating itself. Standing right in front of me is the blonde man.
